


Taking It Two At A Time

by Fenix21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Mpreg!Sam, Swearing, Wincest - Freeform, mildly graphic birth, mpreg!Dean, suggestion of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are mere weeks from their due dates and on the hunt for a valuable occult tome and find out that their timing is terrible and they've pushed their luck just a little too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking It Two At A Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twice As Nice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055770) by [klutzy_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy_girl/pseuds/klutzy_girl). 



> This story contains Mpreg and two mildly graphic birth scenes along with suggested male lactation. If this isn't your thing, turn back now. You've been warned.
> 
> I promised I would lay off the mpreg Supernatural fics and give the boys a break, but I got this idea this morning, and...well, damn, my hands hurt from all the frantic typing, so...sorry, I just had to get this one out, too. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I don't own anything, just borrowing for a bit of fun.
> 
> Thanks to klutzy_girl--and vicariously to ObsidianRomance--for her fic 'Twice As Nice' without which I probably would never have put both Winchester brothers in labor together much less pregnant together. So thanks for the inspiration!

They were both being stupid and they knew it.

Dean was at thirty-nine weeks and as big as a house—at least according to him. The only part of him that was really any bigger than usual, though, was his belly which filled most of his lap when he sat down. He swore there were twins in there just because of his huge size despite the repeated confirmation from their doctor and several ultrasounds that there was just one baby. True, it was a Sam sized baby, so it made sense, because Sam was a big man—in every way—a thought that would have made Dean smirk all the way to next Sunday but for the constant and intense pressure he’d been feeling in his pelvis for the last week or so as the baby settled into position to come into the world.

Dean shifted on the passenger side of the Impala, throwing his arms over the back of the seat and arching his back a little, trying to lift some of the ever present pressure off his hips and pelvis. He grimaced as the movement made the baby kick at his already sore ribs.

“Doing okay?” Sam asked from behind the wheel.

Dean glanced over at him, face still pulling a grimace. And there was the other part of their stupid. Sam was thirty-six weeks pregnant and wearing it a whole lot better due to his height and the fact that his baby seemed to be stretched out from hip to ribs; but then he had the long torso to allow it. 

“Need to pee?” Sam asked, watching Dean shift in the seat again, using his elbows to get some more leverage on the seat back and lift himself another inch higher. 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “This pressure is just…killing me. I swear my pelvis is going to fracture before I can pop this kid out.”

Sam smiled in sympathy and reached across to rub a gentle circle on the upper curve of Dean’s belly. “It won’t be long.” He pulled a bit of a frown. “I really wish you’d have reconsidered and stayed at home, though. I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

Home was an apartment ten hours behind them. When they’d found out about Dean, they’d thought maybe they could manage the traveling and just use Bobby’s place for home base if they needed it; but when Sam had turned up pregnant three weeks later a slightly more permanent solution was in order. 

Sam had wanted a house, but Dean had shied away from the idea. As much as some part of him wanted the stability, his entire life had been lived on the road and engrained a sort of obsessive need for freedom in his blood. He had to know he could pick up and go if the need arose. 

So, they had settled on a one year lease on a nice little two bedroom apartment in Macy, Colorado. It was a little town, half way up the side of the Rockies, but conveniently only a half hour from civilization. Sam had been satisfied for now, and Dean could put up with the idea of having a hub of semi-permanence from which he could come and go without feeling like he was staked down to one spot forever.

Dean covered Sam’s hand and moved it to the spot where his son was continuing to kick box his ribs. Sam pressed firmly and rubbed circles there and the kicking eased. Dean sighed in relief.

“God, I don’t know how you do that, but I am no end of grateful that it works.” He let his weight down slowly back into the seat and splayed his knees, propping one foot up on the center hump on the floor between them. 

Sam skated his hand down the steep curve of Dean’s belly until he connected with his upraised thigh and then slowly curved his fingers down and around, reaching in toward Dean’s crotch. Dean grabbed his wrist.

“I am so going to make you make good on that suggestion,” he said tiredly, “but it just isn’t happening right now.”

“It would take your mind off the pressure.” Sam smirked mischievously.

Dean made a needy whining sound in the back of his throat and wiggled a little against Sam’s still questing fingers. “God, I wish, but I really don’t think it’s going to work. I’m just too uncomfortable, Sammy. Sorry.”

Sam pulled his hand back and massaged the still tense muscles in Dean’s thigh. He smiled again. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, Dean. I only want to do it if it would help you.”

“I know,” Dean said, giving Sam’s hand a quick squeeze.

“But I really wish you had stayed home,” Sam said, going back to his original line of thought. “You’re cutting it way too close, and this just isn’t that important. Bobby would kill me if he knew I had you out here.”

“He’d kill us both,” Dean said, lifting his chin at Sam’s own swollen middle. “It’s not like you have that much more of a margin.” 

Sam shrugged. “I feel fine. I’ve had it a lot easier than you have, and I still have nearly a month to go. I could have handled this one just fine and been back in a couple of days.”

Dean’s head dipped a little and Sam could see the worry in his eyes when they cut to him quickly and then darted back to the windshield. “And if he’d come while you were gone?”

Sam’s heart squeezed in his chest. Dean had been handling this whole thing really well. At least, what Dean thought was really well. There had been lots of machoism and gusto, not letting the baby get in his way or slow him down—much to Sam and Bobby’s dismay in a lot of cases—and no mushy moments. 

Dean swore against any mushy moments. This of course didn’t apply to Sam. Sam’s belly got plenty of love and attention, and it was enforced by the fact that Dean found Sam’s baby bump to be about the biggest turn on he could think of. Dean, however, steered Sam clear of much touchy-feely on his own belly except to let him work his rubbing magic to get junior to settle down so his daddy could sleep. But ultimately, despite all this, Dean was afraid of what was coming.

There had been talk of a C-section because of their son’s size which Dean had loudly protested, and that idea was put on the back burner as an emergency option only despite their doctor’s better judgement. Dean didn’t want to be cut open. The delivery scared him enough without the idea of his guts being cut into and rummaged around in. Besides, he was terrified they’d hurt the baby while they were doing it even though the doctor had assured him it was a completely safe and normal procedure and was even often requested despite not being medically necessary. Dean would have none of it. He was giving birth the normal way, even though that idea terrified him almost as much. The only thing that made him able to deal with it was the fact that Sam would be with him. 

Which was why he’d just spent ten miserable hours in the Impala. He wasn’t letting Sam get more than a few feet away until after this baby got here. 

Sam risked an unnecessary belly rub in reassurance and said, “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

Dean let out a pent up breath and gave a curt nod of affirmation. “How much further?”

“About twenty minutes?” Sam said, glancing at the map that lay open between them. 

“Good.” Dean shifted in the seat again, scowling for all he was worth. “‘Cause I have to pee.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. 

***

“I think I’ve found what we’re looking for,” Sam said as he shoved the motel room door closed with his foot and dropped a bag from the local grocery store on the table along with his laptop bag. 

“That’s good,” Dean said through a grimace. He flattened a hand against the side of his belly and made a pained face.

Sam’s smile immediately turned soft and sympathetic, and he shed his coat and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “He doing gymnastics again?” He laid his hands on Dean’s middle and started rubbing increasingly larger circles, alternating from the full flat of his palms to his fingertips and back. Dean relaxed almost immediately at his touch, and Sam’s heart nearly burst. It made him feel inexplicably wonderful that he was able to do at least this little bit to make his brother more comfortable.

“He’s trying really hard,” Dean answered and flinched as the baby made a sharp jab outward. Sam’s hand went immediately to the spot. “He just doesn’t have enough room anymore.”

“Just a few more days,” Sam soothed.

“Don’t remind me,” Dean muttered. He lifted his gaze to Sam’s and it was underlain with fear beneath the bravado. “Sam, I’m not sure I can….”

“Shh,” Sam put a hand to Dean’s jaw and leaned forward to kiss his forehead before going back to work calming their energetic son. “You can do this, Dean. I know you can. _We_ can. We can do anything…together.”

Dean contemplated a moment and then nodded firmly. “Yeah. Yeah, we can.”

Sam nodded in return. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Maybe that’ll hold him for an hour or so. So, tell me about what you found. Was it really the book we’re looking for?”

Sam rose and turned toward the bathroom. “Yeah. I talked to the professor at the college. He said he found it at an estate sale of one of the founding fathers of the town nearly thirty years ago. He didn’t actually have it there with him, but his description of it was nearly spot on.”

“Is he willing to let us have it?”

“I didn’t get quite that—.” Sam faltered and grabbed at the frame of the bathroom door with a heavy ‘oof’, one hand going to the long curve of his abdomen.

“Sam?” Dean nearly shouted, making an aborted lurch to get up, hampered by the extra weight and his changed center of gravity. He struggled to get his feet to the floor, but Sam turned around holding up a halting hand.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I just…” Sam’s voice was a little breathy and he leaned back into the doorframe for momentary support. Dean was having none of it and hefted himself off the bed.

“Sam, what’s wrong? Talk to me, damn it!” Dean said fiercely, sticking his face up close to Sam’s who had his eyes closed and was focused on breathing steadily.

“Dean, go lay down before you put yourself in labor,” Sam said with a half smile, opening his eyes.

“Me? What the hell was that? That wasn’t normal,” Dean protested.

“Actually, it was.” Sam put his hands down on either side of his belly, pulling his shirt tighter against the swell. Dean looked down in awe at the suddenly pronounced roundness. 

“Holy shit. You actually look pregnant now,” he said with a smirk and covered Sam’s hands.

“Yeah, guess Baby decided to get itself in position all of a sudden,” Sam laughed. His breath caught a little as the baby made another big shift, almost as if curling up inside the confines of Sam’s stomach, finally deciding that it was bored with stretching out all the time. Sam huffed a little. “Wow. I suddenly think I know what you’re talking about with the pressure.”

Dean held Sam’s elbow as they made their way back to the bed. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. The doctor said it was going to happen pretty soon.”

“I know, but that was pretty fast,” Dean said skeptically.

Sam patted Dean’s belly. “You haven’t had enough room in there for that big boy for nearly two months now, so you probably couldn’t tell much except for the build up of pressure.”

“True,” Dean conceded.

Sam stretched upward a little, taking a tentative deep breath. “Actually feels a little better believe it or not. It was getting a little annoying trying to fight Baby for a deep breath when I wanted it.”

Unlike Dean, Sam had not wanted to know the sex of his baby, so they had dubbed him or her ‘Baby’ until the birth. Dean, however, couldn’t deal with the uncertainty and for that reason neither could Sam on his behalf, so he was okay knowing that they were at least having one bouncing baby boy courtesy of Dean. 

“Well, Baby,” Dean addressed Sam’s belly. “I think you need to pipe down a little and give your papa a break. Enough rolling about for tonight, huh?” Dean looked up at Sam. “Wish I had the same effect you did. I feel a little useless.”

Sam leaned over and pressed his lips softly against Dean’s. “No, definitely not useless. You may think I’m calm as a cucumber about this whole thing, but honestly? I’m about as freaked about pushing this kid out as you are.”

Dean eyed his brother with a raised brow. “Liar.”

Sam laughed softly. “Well, it was worth a shot anyhow.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean leaned back on a hand and arched his back a little, thrusting his belly forward, trying once again to redistribute the terrible weight between his hips. 

Sam took advantage and planted a firm kiss on the round swell and curved his forearms around it. “Keep that up and I’m gong to have to see about rocking our boy to sleep tonight,” he murmured mischievously.

“Oh Lord, I wish,” Dean sighed. He put his other hand behind him and dropped his head back, relaxing as much as he could under Sam’s ministrations. Sam tugged up the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and put lips against skin and let his hands drift downward to run up and down Dean’s thighs invitingly, getting closer and closer to his groin with every stroke. “Damn, Sammy, please don’t do that…”

Sam stilled and lifted up to look Dean in the eye. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop. Just say the word.”

“I just did,” Dean said a little unevenly.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Sam asked, going back to putting kisses on Dean’s belly and moving down the lower curve of it until Dean’s arms were shaking and his hips were making tiny hungry forward movements. Sam pushed his hands up Dean’s thighs again and squeezed gently at the juncture of his hip, running his thumbs up and down the the firming length of his brother’s increasing arousal.

He pressed his cheek against Dean’s middle, prepared to litter it with still more kisses when a quick tightening of muscles there accompanied by a gasp from Dean had him frozen in place. He looked up sharply.

“Dean? What was that?”

Dean lifted a hand to rub his middle. “Just a cramp. It’s been happening off and on all day.”

Sam sat up, his hands sliding back, concern flooding his face. “All day? Has it been regular?”

Dean frowned in thought. “No, not really. Just every once in a while.” He shifted on the bed again. “And the pressure’s worse, if that’s even possible.”

Sam put his hand on Dean’s belly, waiting for another tightening of the muscles to confirm what he was beginning to suspect, but Dean beat him to it. 

“Sam, it’s okay. It’s not labor. It’s just those Hicks things, I think. It’s been happening for the last week.”

“Braxton-Hicks? Why didn’t you say something, Dean?” Sam sat back a little. “Jesus, I really shouldn’t have dragged you out here.”

Dean sat forward and took Sam’s jaw and turned him to face him. “Sam, it’s o-kay,” he emphasized. “I’m not worried.” He paused with a tiny frown. “Well, that’s not entirely true—but it’s like you said. It’s going to be fine. We can do this. Right?”

Sam nodded immediately. “Right. Absolutely. Just, please…don’t neglect to tell me this stuff anymore, okay?”

“I promise.”

“All right. Well, you should drink more,” Sam said, reaching for the bag he’d put on the table. “It’ll help with the contractions. Hydration is key.”

Dean rolled his eyes and twisted off the cap of the giant bottle of water Sam handed him. He tipped it back and guzzled about half of it just to make his brother feel better.

Sam smiled, relieved, and kissed his cheek.

***

Sam wasn’t used to having to wake up to move in the night. Baby’s weight had been distributed in such a way that his movements had so far stayed pretty unhindered, but with the sudden shift this afternoon, he was finding it difficult to even roll over. 

Dean had helped him get comfortable enough to sleep with a pillow under the side of his now much more prominent swell, laughing at him the whole time as he had been putting up with it for nearly four months already. 

Sam thought it was the added weight and trying to shift in his sleep that had woken him, but when he finally did navigate rolling over he found Dean sitting up on the edge of the bed, curled forward, fists biting dents in the side of the mattress. He pushed up on his elbow. 

“Dean? You okay?”

Dean gave a sharp, quick shake of his head, then groaned hard and pitched forward a little.

Sam was up and had Dean’s weight in his arms in a second. He pressed a hand to Dean’s belly, which even in the dim light looked different: harder, tighter, more rounded but in a compressed way. He felt the muscles ripple under his palm and Dean groaned again.

“Sammy, I think those…fake contractions?” Dean gasped trying to pitch himself forward again. “Not so fake.”

“Oh, Dean…why didn’t you wake me? How long has this been going on?”

“Few hours,” Dean said, leaning back into Sam’s arms at the bottom end of the contraction. “Had to go pee about ten, I think. Water broke.”

Sam glanced at the bedside clock. It was three in the morning. 

“God, Dean….”

Sam held him firmly as another contraction gripped him and he curled forward, huffing hard. When the pain released him, Sam unfurled his fingers from the mattress, rubbed blood back into them and hefted him in increments to the head of the bed, propping pillows behind him. He turned to grab his phone, but Dean caught his wrist.

“I don’t want a hospital.”

“Dean, we talked about this,” Sam begged. “It might be okay for me, but if he’s too big—if you can’t—.”

Dean puffed hard and threw himself forward with another contraction, grinding out through clenched teeth, “I can! I can, and I will, damn it!”

Sam left his phone on the table, took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, then. We need to figure out where you are. Come on, spread your knees,” Sam’s coaxed. “That’s it, just let them fall open, and let me….” Sam gently probed around Dean’s opening and tried to contain a shocked gasp. “Dean, I think you’re already dilated.” Sam tried to keep his voice calm and even as he pressed up inside Dean and was surprised again by how far he didn’t have to go. He dropped back, eyes wide. “Dean, he’s ready. I mean, uh, he’s like…right there!”

Dean reached up and grabbed the headboard, white knuckling it and lifting his hips off the bed with the next pain as he rasped out, “Thought so!” He dropped back to the bed, breathing heavily. “Oh god, Sammy, I feel like…I’m gonna pop. Literally! The pressure is just—.” 

Dean dropped off as another contraction grabbed him. “Fuck! Sam…I think….” Dean strained forward, arms wrapping around his hardened belly, fingers pressing hard at the lower curve as if he might be able to hold their son inside him, even if his body was trying to get him out. “Shit. Sam, I have to push. Now!”

 Dean pressed his chin to his chest automatically, grabbing hold of his knees and hauling himself forward, bearing down so hard he almost yelled in relief when the contraction receded. Sam checked him again and found their son’s head even closer than before. 

“Dean, keep that up and he’s gonna be here in no time,” Sam encouraged.

Dean nodded, trying to get his breath back for the next push that he could already feel taking hold in his lower back. He tried not to let the fear knotting in his stomach get a grip on him. He remembered reading about how fear just made the pain worse. He needed to remember to work with it, not fight against it. Shouldn’t be too hard he remembered thinking then, he and Sam were accustomed to all sorts of pain. This pain was just going to be a different variety. 

The contraction crawled up the sides of his belly almost visibly and forcibly worked downward. Dean joined the effort with a loud groaning push. Sam sat between his spread knees, shell shocked at the speed at which things were progressing, trying to coach him through the pain, but Dean honestly could barely hear him above the rush of blood in his head and the sound of his own groans. 

“Dean, you’re doing…great! God, you’re doing fantastic!” Sam said excitedly.

“Yeah, well, you can’t beat… this kind of perfection,” Dean quipped between harsh breathes. 

Sam put a hand on Dean’s belly, feeling for the next contraction. His eyes widened briefly at the unmistakable sensation as one started to build and Dean grabbed at his knees again and pushed forward. But at the top of the contraction this time something happened and Dean suddenly freaked out in panicky little breathes and almost tried to scramble backward, bucking his hips up off the bed and trying to close his legs.

“Dean? Dean, relax. You’ve got to relax,” Sam said, pushing Dean’s knees wider apart and seeing what Dean was trying to escape. Their son’s head was crowning, stretching Dean wide, and Sam cringed at the straining skin not even open to the fullest part of their baby’s head yet. “Dean, it’s okay. I know it hurts—.”

“Burns! God dammit!” Dean shouted, still trying to pull back. “Shit. Sammy! I can’t! I can’t. He’s too big!”

Sam held tight to Dean’s thighs, trying to keep his hips down on the bed and his knees spread. “No, Dean, he’s not. He’s a very big boy, but he’s not too big. You can do this. You can. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He reached up and caught at Dean’s chin, forcing him to look Sam in the eye. “I’m with you, Dean. All the way. Now, come on. Let’s bring this baby into the world.”

Dean nodded short and sharp and grimaced as another contraction waved over him. Sam patted his thighs.

“Just breathe with this one.” Sam took several even breathes trying to coax Dean to do the same. “Just breath with it. Let yourself rest. Give yourself a chance to open up, okay?”

Dean nodded quickly again, trying hard to mimic Sam’s breathing pattern. The contraction peaked and he wanted to bear down, felt their son pushing forward almost of his own volition, but forced himself to relax out of the the pain. 

“Good, Dean. Really good,” Sam said. “Now, let’s…” He shifted up on the bed and caught one of Dean’s knees in his hand. “Yeah. Here. Roll to your side a little. Like that. Now, next push, you just lean into it, and I’ll take care of keeping you open, okay?”

Dean nodded, letting his right knee fall to the mattress as Sam pressed his weight into his left and held his thighs wide apart as the contraction built and Dean instinctively curled forward, heaving all his effort into it. 

“Sammy! Sammy, I—.” Dean started to panic again as the baby crowned more fully and the burning intensified so that he thought he was going to be torn in two. He swore he felt bone grinding on bone as the contraction kept up and forced their son more fully down and out.

“You can,” Sam said at Dean’s ear. He kept his elbow hooked around Dean’s knee, pulling him open, and leaned over to check the progress. He grinned big. “You can and you are, Dean! He’s coming. Fast! I swear. His head’s almost completely out. Just give it another good push, and we’ve got him.”

Dean scrabbled to grab his upraised knee with both hands and hold it, jerking his head down to direct Sam to get down there and catch their son. Sam obeyed the silent instruction and knelt forward, putting his hand under the emerging head.

“God, Dean, he’s beautiful. He’s beautiful, and I can’t even see him yet!”

Dean didn’t answer, but just kept bearing down with the unending contraction that had him in its grip. 

Whatever fear he’d had about this birth had been successfully drowned by the pain and speed with which it was happening. The only thing left in its wake, now, was an urgent need to get this baby out of him. He curled further forward, pulling his knee up hard, and grunting enormously with the effort of the push. 

“That’s it, Dean! I’ve got his head. I’ve got him. One more time. Just one more!”

The contraction never let go. It just kept going, coming at him in battering waves, and Dean rode it, bearing down as hard as he could, air collapsing out of his lungs, blood crashing in his ears, stars forming in his graying vision as he strained with the effort, until he finally felt an amazing rush and release of pressure as his son slipped from his body.

“Dean, you did it!” Sam shouted. “My god, you did it!”

A piercing wail sounded in the next second, and Dean let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for nine months straight. A huge smile spread across his face and he reached out instinctively, struggling on the the pillows to try and get upright so he could see his son.

Sam had the baby stretched across his forearm, belly down while he cleaned him up and then wrapped him in a blanket. They hadn’t exactly come prepared to give birth, but Sam had stashed an emergency baby kit in with his stuff two weeks back just in case anything should happen. Dean was grateful once again to his brother’s forward thinking. 

Sam kept the wailing infant in one arm while he offered the other to Dean to help him re-situate himself against the pillows, then laid the bundle in Dean’s arms.

“Oh my god,” Dean breathed, looking down into his son’s bright eyes. “Look at you, you big boy.”

“Ten pounds I’d guess,” Sam said with a smile.

“Felt more like twelve,” Dean muttered. “But we won’t hold it against you,” he said, directed to the infant. The baby squirmed and cried and Dean bounced him a little to try and calm him, but it didn’t seem to have an effect.

“Hungry,” Sam said and motioned with a finger to Dean’s t-shirt where his nipples had already made wet spots as his body reacted to the cries of his son’s need for nourishment. 

Dean floundered a little. He hadn’t intended to breastfeed. The idea made him a little queasy and embarrassed, but they weren’t prepared with anything else, and his instinct to give his son what he needed won out on the scales. He tugged ineffectually at his shirt until Sam smiled and reached for the hem and help him tug it over his head, then he shifted the baby up to a nipple, coaxing him to take it. The little mouth rooted for a second or two, eyes squinted up in anger until he found what he was after and latched on so hard he made Dean gasp. 

“Wow!”

Sam grinned at Dean’s astonished face. “No hesitation there, then.”

“Not a whit,” Dean said. He grimaced a little as the baby’s fierce suckling somehow filtered through his body and caused a mild wave of contractions. “Sam?”

Sam rubbed his thigh. “Don’t worry. It’s normal. You’re body’s just getting rid of the excess. I’ve got it covered.”

And Sam did. He took care of everything. He cleaned up and got Dean fresh sweats and a button down shirt to make feedings easier, and even managed a brief sponge bath; all while Dean cradled their newborn son and marveled at his perfection. 

By the time Sam was finished, Dean had shifted the baby to his other breast and the little guy had started to drift off. 

“Sam, come lay down and say hi,” Dean said softly, holding out a hand.

Sam obediently came, laying down a little hesitantly. He smiled up at Dean. “So, have you decide on which name?”

Dean stroked a limp little finger and watched as his sleeping son let go of his food supply and worked his tiny mouth in satisfaction. “Let’s go with Beau.”

Sam leaned up to look at Beau’s face. “Beau…it is,” he said with a tight smile.

Dean was exhausted, absorbed in the new life laying in his arms that only a few hours ago had been beating up his insides, but he wasn’t so far gone that he missed the sudden hitch in Sam’s voice.

“Sam, you all right?”

Sam nodded slowly and rolled over onto his back, eyes drifting closed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Dean scowled and looked at the hand that had snuck up the other side of Sam’s belly and was curling up with tension. “Sammy…”

Sam opened an eye and let out a slow breath. “Yeah, Dean.”

“Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”

Sam took another breath and let it out long and slow. “Labor?”

“What?!” Dean almost yelled.

Beau squirmed in his arms at the disruption but didn’t wake.

“Dean, relax. Don’t wake Beau. It’s okay.”

“The hell it’s okay!” Dean said in an enraged whisper. “Sam, you’re not due for at least three weeks. We need to get you to a hospital. Now.”

“No, Dean. It’s okay,” Sam tugged on Dean’s shoulder as he made to rise out of the bed. “The doctor said Baby was healthy and growing fast the last time we saw him. It’ll be okay. Babies come this early all the time and are just fine.”

Dean couldn’t believe how calm Sam sounded. “How close are you? I mean how long have you…?”

“I think I’ve been in labor for a few hours,” Sam said, breathing through another low grade contraction. Dean found Sam’s hand and squeezed tight. Sam squeezed back in assurance. “Just didn’t realize it. Too distracted.”

He tipped his head back up and grinned at Dean and Beau before the corners of his mouth turned down in pain again.

“They seem awfully close together, Sam. Are you sure about this?”

“You just did it. With flying colors, I might add,” Sam said. “I think I can, too.”

***

As it happened, Sam _could_ do it, but it was apparently going to take him a lot longer.

Twelve hours in and he didn’t seem to be making any further progress except that the pain was mounting. His water hadn’t even broken yet. He rolled to his other side on the bed, and huffed in discomfort as another contraction rippled up and around from his back.

“Sam?” Dean queried from his spot in the chair he had posted by the bed, where he could reach either Sam or Beau, whom he’d settled into a makeshift nest of his leather coat and a spare blanket he’d begged off of room service, with ease. 

Beau was being a trooper. He was quiet and pretty much just slept when he wasn’t eating, which he did voraciously. Dean was actually grateful for that because each time Beau latched on with his powerful suckling it seemed to send a wave of endorphins out into Dean’s blood that dulled the remaining discomfort and pain from the birth so that all he had to deal with was being tired while he tried to tend to Sam. Because there was no way he was abandoning Sam to his own devices after all he’d done for Dean.

“Dean, you should sleep,” Sam said, his voice a little hoarse and dry. “This could take…hours.”

“It’s been hours, Sammy,” Dean said, leaning down with a cup and trying to angle it so Sam could take a few sips. “Please. Let me get you some help.”

Sam shook his head against the pillow. “There isn’t anything anyone could do, Dean. This is normal. This is what yours should have been. Sure was what I expected it to be.”

Dean shuddered at the thought of spending upwards of fifteen hours in that kind of pain. He swallowed hard. “I’m glad it wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, trying to force a smile past another rising contraction. “Me, too. Can’t…stand to see you hurt.”

Dean made a pained look of his own and grabbed Sam’s hand when it flailed out in search of something to grip. “Same goes, little brother.”

“Nghh,” Sam groaned and brought his knees up a little. He pressed his forehead against the back of Dean’s hand and hung on tight, panting hard when the pain started to recede. “Ow. That was…quite a bit stronger.”

“Want me to check you?” Dean offered.

“I think it’ll only depress me,” Sam moaned, shifting to his back for a moment, then rolling back to his side as nothing seemed to alleviate the building pressure and pain.

Dean flicked aside the blanket anyway and gently pushed Sam onto his back and spread his thighs so he could get a good view of the progress, or lack thereof. He pressed up inside his brother with two tentative fingers, but didn’t feel anything. Sam groaned again and his knees started to collapse together. Dean backed out. “Actually, I think you’ve dilated a little more, so that’s good anyway.”

“Yeah,” Sam moaned through another pain.

Dean leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam’s sweaty brow. “Let me at least call Bobby, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” Sam protested. “He’ll never let us hear the end of it, _after_ he’s killed us.”

***

As it turned out, Bobby did have a lot of choice words to say to both of them, but when he showed up eight hours later and saw Sam writhing, panting, and crying in pain on the bed after nearly twenty-four straight hours of labor, and held the contentedly sleeping Beau in his arms—falling for the little guy hard in a hot minute—he managed to keep his tongue behind his teeth. 

He made several runs to the ice machine and filled the bathroom sink to give Dean a supply to help cool Sam and keep him hydrated by feeding him one ice cube at a time since he was pretty much beyond holding still long enough to get any water down him. Then he made a run to the store and came back laden with diapers, a couple blankets and onesies for Beau and the soon to be new arrival, and two portable bassinet type things the little sales girl at the store had recommended. He occupied himself in one corner of the room, trying to put together the bassinets, pacify Beau except when he needed fed, and block out Sam’s increasing cries of pain.

“Dean, please!” Sam begged at the top of another contraction three hours later. “Please!”

He didn’t even know what he was begging for and it broke Dean’s heart to be able to do nothing but sit and hold onto his brother’s hand. Sam didn’t want the pain to stop because that meant it would just take longer, but he had used up all his available energy stores and was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep either because the contractions were nearly on top of each other. 

“Any progress?” Bobby asked softly, near Dean’s ear.

Dean nodded absently, hanging onto Sam’s hand as his fingers curled with breaking force around his palm. “He’s fully dilated. The baby’s just not coming.”

“Can he just…push, or somethin’?” 

“When he’s ready. And believe me, you’ll know when that is,” Dean said. He dropped his head and turned so that only Bobby could hear his next words. “I’m starting to worry, Bobby. He’s so tired, and the baby…I don’t know how much longer this can go on before…you know…?”

Bobby put a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “The baby’s going to be fine, Dean. You gotta have faith.”

“Dean…” Sam rasped out deliriously. He rolled to his side and then to his back and then to his other side, almost pulling out of Dean’s grip but coming right back when he realized what he was doing. “Dean, you’ve got to break it. I c—can’t…” Sam swallowed thickly and Dean reached for an ice cube and put it to his lips.

“Shhh, Sammy. Shh, I know it hurts.”

Sam sucked the ice cube down and his voice was a little stronger when he spoke again. “You’ve got to break my water, Dean. I can’t push until you do.”

“Wh-what?” Dean stuttered. “I can’t do that! Can I?”

Sam nodded, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “You have to. Please!” He arched up with another contraction, gripping the sheet that covered his belly. “Please, Dean! The baby… she’s getting weaker. I have to get her out…”

“She?” Dean asked, but Sam was beyond hearing him, hips writhing with yet another contraction. Dean swung around to Bobby. “Any ideas?”

Bobby shrugged dumbly, but hunted the room for something that might work to the task of doing what Sam was asking. Finally, he gave up and pulled out his Swiss army knife. Dean recoiled.

“I can’t poke that up there, Bobby!”

“I don’t see what other choice we have!” Bobby flipped open the blade and rummaged in one of the sacks he’d come back with earlier. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, took it to the sink and poured a liberal amount over the entire knife, then handed it to Dean. 

“I got it to celebrate later,” he explained sheepishly to Dean’s raised brow.

Dean took the knife and was honestly surprised he could even hold it considering what he was about to do with it, much less hold it in a hand that didn’t even shake in the slightest. But then he was doing this to help Sam, so he figured that must be what was keeping him steady.

“Okay, Sammy, you’ve got to lay still,” Dean said, pushing Sam’s feet up the bed and spreading his knees wide. “Really still. Can you do that, Sam?”

Sam bit down on his bottom lip, fisted his hands in the sheets and forced his body into stillness, then gave a stiff nod.

“O-kay.” Dean let out a slow breath and carefully angled the knife upward into Sam’s opening. A second later he hit the mildest resistance and then a rush of fluids covered his hands. He blinked in astonishment. Bobby handed him several towels and traded him for the knife.

Above them, Sam let out an almost yowl of relief. Dean grinned despite himself. “Better?”

Sam shook his head emphatically ‘no’, but he looked strangely reenergized and tried to boost himself up on the pillows.

“Whoa there,” Bobby said, and grabbed him under the arms to help. “Which way?”

“Down,” Sam directed, and Bobby helped lift him down to the foot of the bed so that his hips were almost to the edge. Dean looked a little confused, but went with it when Sam propped his feet on Dean’s thighs and wiggled forward a little more. “She’s got to come down and out,” he explained and then pitched forward so that Dean had to grab him to keep him from falling in the floor as the mother of all contractions so far got hold of him.

“Fuck!” Sam yelled, fingers digging into the meat of Dean’s shoulder so that he was sure there would be bruises. Beau stirred at the sudden outburst, but Bobby quickly tucked him up and soothed him so Dean could focus. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Sammy?”

“She’s coming, Dean,” Sam gasped, heaving forward again, his toes curling against Dean’s thighs. “She’s coming!”

“There you go with the ‘she’ again,” Dean tried to tease. “Pretty damn sure of yourself.”

Sam growled at him and spread his thighs even further apart. Dean looked down and saw the sliver of a skull straining outward. His eyes went wide and then wider still when he thought that only a day or so ago, he’d been going through this same thing. For all the progress they hadn’t made in the last twenty hours, this was happening really fast. 

Sam curled forward, hands still biting into Dean’s shoulders, chin pressed deep into his chest, face red with the effort of his push.

“Sam, take it easy. Slow down. You have to breathe, Sammy,” Dean soothed when Sam went from one contraction to the next without taking in any air. But Sam wasn’t listening and Dean injected his voice with a commanding tone, “Sam. Stop. Breathe. Just breathe.”

Sam listened then, mind and body reacting to the old ‘big brother voice’ that had always protected him through everything. He threw his head back for a huge breath and panted through the next contraction.

Dean nodded his approval. “Okay, Baby’s coming real fast, Sam, so get ready for it.”

“Oh… god!” Sam hauled himself forward again, bearing down with the next contraction. 

And it didn’t end. It just kept coming and coming, and all Sam could do was push and push until he started feeling light headed and felt Bobby at his back, holding him up and forward while Dean coached him on from somewhere below and between his knees.

“That’s it, Sammy! I’ve got her head. She’s comin’. Just a little more, Sam. Just a little…more…”

Sam cried out at the top of the contraction, bearing down against Bobby’s hand that had suddenly appeared in his own, until he felt a sudden rush and emptiness from inside him and heard the sweetest cry he could possibly imagine.

“Holy shit, Sammy,” Dean whispered, holding the tiny crying infant in his hands and grinning. “You were right. It’s a girl!”

Sam collapsed back against Bobby’s chest, laughing with relief as Dean wiped the little girl clean and bundled her in a blanket. He pushed up on his knees to hold her to Sam’s chest and then leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, darlin’,” he whispered. “Sure gave your daddy a run for his money, didn’t you?”

“But we won’t hold it against you,” Sam said, repeating Dean’s words of earlier, as he nestled the little bundle up closer and pushed his nose against hers. “Hey ya, Sweetheart.”

Dean moved up to sit on the bed beside Sam and marveled at how tiny their daughter was compared to her brother. He could hardly believe something so small had given such a big guy like Sam such a hard time.

“So, what was your first choice in girl’s names?” Dean asked softly.

“Mary,” Sam answered without hesitation.

Dean swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Of course, Sam would want to name her Mary. He nodded and cupped his palm against little Mary’s head. “Mom would be proud to have such a beautiful namesake.”

Across the room, Beau cooed softly for attention and Bobby scooped him up to deposit him in his father’s arms. Dean held him up so he could see his new little sister. “Beau, meet your baby sister Mary.”

Beau blinked sleepy eyes at the still mewling infant and then stuck his fist in his mouth and sucked which Dean had already learned was the precursor to a wail of hunger. He laughed and opened his shirt, letting Beau find his meal. He lifted his chin a little at Mary, and said,

“She’s probably hungry, too.”

Sam nodded and let Bobby help him off with his shirt just as he’d done for Dean earlier and lifted Mary to his breast where she found her way to his nipple with only a couple of false starts. Sam’s eyes went wide at the sensation.

“Somethin’ else, isn’t it?” Dean said with a smile.

“I’ll say.”

Bobby stood slack jawed, staring in wonderment at his two best boys as they sat at the end of the bed—probably more tired than they had ever been in their lives—happier than he had ever seen them before with their heads pressed together over the two newest additions to the Winchester line. He cleared his throat past a sudden rush of tears.

“You boys need to get some rest. You just feed those babies up, and then give them to their granddad, and then get some sleep.”

 

Less than an hour later, Bobby had the new family tucked securely in bed between fresh, cool sheets, the drapes drawn to keep out the growing light, and Coldplay going softly from Sam’s iPod in the background. Sam was curved in toward Dean on the bed, Mary and Beau tucked in close between them. He could tell they were murmuring to each other, but he couldn’t hear the words, so he just kicked back in the chair and shut his eyes and listened to the music.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy.”

“We did an awesome thing, didn’t we?”

Dean smiled sleepily. “Yeah, little brother. We really did.”

“We’re still gonna get yelled at, though, aren’t we?”

Dean laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure we are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, Sam's labor was supposed to be easy-peasy and calm and collected. Funny how the tables can turn. I apologize for taking liberties with the obstetrics medical field as I'm sure my idea of a birth has quite a few ridiculous errors, but hey, it's fiction, right? :)
> 
> Oh, yeah, and I totally just decided that Sam really liked Coldplay. :)


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